Life with Nick and Macy
by Whats Mine Is Yours
Summary: JONAS. Macy experiences the ups and downs of liking the youngest member of JONAS. Collection of one-shots


_Life makes you unbelievably happy before it screws you over. Yet every time, I fall for it anyways._

* * *

Sometimes I like to think that he notices me.

But not just any kind of notice, but an actual _look_, where you can't just stop and look _once_. You have to look back.

Sometimes I like to think that every time he walks by my desk to the pencil sharpener, he doesn't really need to sharpen his already pointy-edged piece of wood. He just wants me to notice him, and watch as he struts to the small metal device nailed to the white classroom wall. His back is facing me, but every second, as he turns the sharpener, he looks to the side, as if wanting to see if I'm looking at him (though he's not really _looking_ at _me_).

Even though I can recognize these actions clearly, my eyes are still glued to my paper of sines and tangents… I can see him from the edge of my eyes.

For a few moments, I can't really concentrate perfectly at the current equation, but I'm waiting until he walks back to his desk, which I noted, is on the other side of the classroom, where the windows are (probably to daydream and write lyrics).

I tap my pencil gently, and then see the blurred figure retreat.

I can't help myself, so I glance up, and just as I reach his eyes, his own dart back at me, like he was waiting for the exchange as well.

Neither of us smile, but I know he is, inside.

So I do too.

Sometimes I like to think that every time Nick ignores me, it's just an ignorant response at trying to get me to approach him (just after we talked the day before; just a hello of course).

Sometimes I like to think that when he says Hi to me, or waves, that he was planning it all day.

Because every day, after second period, I noticed our classes are just a few doors down. He's always the last one out, and so am I, so when we walk past each other, the hallways aren't crowded; a stupid excuse for not even saying hello.

But some days, I find that he does wave. Sometimes just a nod, so I just nod back.

Some days he'll stop to ask me if I had the Chemistry homework last night, because he was too busy practicing a new song. Sometimes I like to think he brought the subject up on purpose, just to notify me of a might-be new hit. Some days, or most days, I'll pretend to be annoyed that he, like any other boy, has to copy off a friend's homework. But there will be one day of the week that I'll just smile, and give him the paper anyways.

The reply I get, is too worthwhile, that when I hand it to him, I anticipate that thankful grin he emits; like waiting for Christmas Day.

He once said my name instead of Stella's.

_Macy _coming out from his own lips, in his own voice; _it's like music_. Something so extraordinary considering his voice in song already makes the girls drop to the floor and hearts stop.

We were at the library studying for a huge English test on that upcoming week, and I, Nick, Stella, Joe, and Kevin, the usual, sat at one of the back round tables, the librarian constantly yelling at Joe and Kevin for _talking too loud about their crazy battles._

My name had instantly caught my attention, because it was, of course, my name.

Nick was looking at me, but almost too quickly, he had corrected himself.

"I mean Stella."

I looked back down to my book, trying to read over the sentence he interrupted, but the sudden interruption was too _distractingly startling_ that all I could feel was Stella's intense, questioning stare she gave to Nick.

He asked for the question to number five.

One time, Stella had called in sick because of some bad food poisoning she got from the new Japanese restaurant that opened a few blocks down the street.

Joe had weirdly called in home sick also, claiming that he was in need for some so-called rest for his _aching head._ Stella was better the next day.

Kevin went on a fieldtrip with the rest of the Cheerleading squad to a Cheer convention that took up the whole day, reasonably.

So it was just the two of us.

Lunch had been a little weird because I remember sitting at one of the tables alone, deciding on which sport to join next; basketball season had just ended.

And there I saw the boy, in all his curly hair so perfectly made out, standing at the front of the cafeteria, searching the place. Probably searching for the three people he usually sat with, who were coincidently not here all at the same time.

I knew Nick was famous, but that didn't mean he was popular. I hated to say this, but he was kind of an outcast. Him being famous and all, kind of made the other boys envious that more girls were fawning over him than whatever number of dates they've ever had. So they kept away. And girls didn't even approach him as much as people thought they did. His stoic face made it seem impossible.

I was about to look away, knowing that he would never sit with me (well, at least while I was alone), but he saw me anyways.

At first I could see the _oh my god _dialogue reading off his lips, but he gave me a weak smile anyways, approaching the big table.

He sat down, his tray making a small _thump_ as he placed it on the plastic table. I beamed, wondering if this feeling was agitation, discomfort, excitement, or all three.

We exchanged greetings, and he put his back on the seat next to him.

We started talking about food, then moved on to the weather. The occasional, nodding, and _yeahs_ were given, and the lunch period seemed oddly peaceful, with him around.

The bell had rung too soon for my liking, and he left in a flash.

I barely heard the small smile he gave when saying goodbye, but I knew that he felt the time had gone faster that we both thought - and hoped it would.

The next time I saw him was very _disheartening_.

Bizarrely, I had gotten up early that morning, the thought of what I was going to wear drove knifes through my mind. The image of Nick's face that day before, and how the next time I would see him, it was like something had shifted, like the some-what isolated relationship we had from each other moved, and the air was more clear.

But the thought was absolutely _wrong_ when I did see him that morning.

Even though I knew Stella, Joe and Kevin were going to come back someday – the next day – some part of me hoped that they wouldn't.

Some days I like to think that just because he ignored me, it just meant he didn't see me through all the people walking in the hallway.

I stood there, and waved at him, wishing that he'd recognize the skirt I troubling fought against earlier. But he didn't even glance.

I was right there, and he just swiftly walked past me.

Some days I like to think that I was a little shorter than I thought I was.

_Some days I like to think that he had something really important to tell Stella when he walked by me. _

_AN: Poor Mace... Is this type of writing bad (w/o dialogue)?_


End file.
